Let the Rain Fall Down
by britishtoatea
Summary: 2pFrUk. Human AU, slight shota(Oliver is 17) Francis and Oliver are an unlikely pair. Their love is forbidden because the age gap between them is so large. Much better than the description I promise. Please read and review, it keeps me writing.


A soft spring rain pattered softy on the closed window as Francis sat in his cozy chair, a book in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. A soft glance to the clock on the wall showed 2:45. It was almost time for Oliver to get here from school.

He'd met Oliver by chance. He just happened to be taking his laundry down to his apartment building's Laundromat when he'd heard a commotion off to his right. His first instinct had been to ignore it. It was just some idiot kids, after all. Probably rough housing and nothing more. He took a few more steps and then heard something that made his blood boil with rage.

"Get him! Show that faggot he's not wanted here!" He reacted without hesitation, dropped his laundry and turned. The bullies scattered as soon as they heard the gruff belt of a threat to kick their asses if they ever showed up around here again. At first he hadn't been impressed by the petite teenager on the ground. He'd casually helped him to his feet and offered to bandage him up. After talking for a bit, he found out Oliver was studying French, and he begrudgingly offered to tutor him.

It had been the worst mistake of his life. At first it was nothing, a mere annoyance at the end of his day that he had to deal with. He'd expected Oliver to stop coming. Not many wanted to be around him. He was too… Francis for many people's taste. But Oliver faithfully showed up, every day, right on time. He slowly began to anticipate Oliver's visits.

Oliver had become something he didn't think he could live without. His visits quickly became the highlight of his day and Oliver's smile was forever burned into his mind. He hadn't meant for things to go so far with Oliver. He really hadn't. He hadn't meant to fall for the boy, and he hadn't meant for Oliver to reciprocate those feelings.

Oliver… just the thought of his name sent a flurry of butterflies through Francis' belly that he did his damnedest to ignore. It was wrong, what he and Oliver had; the longing, the urge to mesh their hearts into one unit. They both knew it. Even so, some invisible force kept pulling them together, and they found themselves with lips locked together more than once.

Each time, Francis promised himself it would never happen again. Oliver was too young, a tender 17 year old high school student and he was far too old, a bone creaking age of 45. Not only could it never work out for them, but there was no way society would approve of it either. No… Oliver deserved better and he knew it. He deserved someone better looking, kinder, closer to his age. Not an old straight man who just happened to fall head over heels for him. But the pull of those lips, the gravity of those ocean blue eyes, wide with a smile always drew him in, and always he found himself kissing Oliver again.

They'd both promise that nothing further would happen. It couldn't happen. They'd both swore that clothes would always stay on, that hands could never wander. His hands often burned with desire to run just a bit lower, to sneak up under that T-shirt and explore every dip and curve the young boy had to offer. It was, in a single word, Hell. So many nights Francis had suffered an aching erection trapped in his pants, waiting for the moment Oliver would leave to go home so he could relieve it in a fit of frustration in the bathroom.

Francis set his book aside and ran a hand through his shaggy, unkempt hair and looked to the door. It would be any minute now… Like clockwork, the doorknob turned, and a pink head popped in the door, the same smile on his face as always. Francis took a breath, forced those butterflies back down into his gut. Oliver seemed shy today, as he closed the door behind him, and Francis noted the slowly dripping water falling from his hair, onto the floor.

"Let me get you a towel." Francis stood and hurried to the bathroom, only to be greeted with a sight that took his breath away. Oliver stood with his shirt up over his head, slowly uncovering the creamy white of his virgin skin. Francis watched as he pulled it off, and wrung it in his hands. His tongue darted out of his mouth and he wet his lips.

He was rooted to the spot as Oliver turned toward him, and he could see the boy trembling. Poor Oliver… he must be freezing. He was only a few steps away, and Francis quickly crossed the room and silently began to towel the young boy's hair. He tried to ignore Oliver's soft flushed cheeks as he looked up at him, tried to keep his hands from shaking as he carefully dried his hair. He was startled when he felt Oliver's hand on his cheek, and his motions slowed to a stop as his eyes lowered to meet those ocean blue irises that he loved so much.

That invisible force was pulling him forward again, the red string of fate shortening, forcing them together once more. His hands dropped from Oliver's hair, down to his sides, and he felt that familiar burning of his palms as they ached to touch Oliver's skin. Oliver's hands had slid up his chest, and around his neck, and he could feel his breath on his lips before the younger pressed forward. Their lips connected, and Francis felt his body catch fire.

His hands, for the first time, hesitantly rested on Oliver's bared waist, and it was all he could do to restrain himself. The flood gates broke when he felt Oliver's soft tongue lap shyly against his lower lip, and before he knew what was happening, he had Oliver pressed against the door, and Oliver's reaction didn't deter him. The younger jumped up, his legs wrapping tightly around Francis' waist and for the first time, his hands ran lower, gripped Oliver's firm, perfect rear as he supported his young love's waist.

Oliver's hands wound in his hair, and his lips were fervently attached to his own. Francis didn't care that Oliver was getting him all wet, didn't care that he was dripping water all over his carpet. All that mattered were those lips pressed against his, the arousal he could feel growing in Oliver's pants, and the soft, whispered words that Oliver spoke against his lips. "I love you."

His resolve broken, he kissed him again, slower this time than the frenzied one just a few moments ago. He broke the kiss, held Oliver close to him as he carried him back to the bedroom. That familiar heat was rising in his groin as he laid Oliver down on the mattress. He licked his lips again and his cock twitched when Oliver rolled his hips and gave him a 'come hither' grin. He couldn't resist, and he was upon him in an instant, their lips once again connected. Oliver's arms once again wound around his neck, and he moaned softly as his hands freely roamed Oliver's soft chest, his thumbs brushing over his pert nipples.

He loved the way Oliver's chest moved as he took a breath, loved the way one of his young lover's thighs wrapped around his waist and pulled him against his groin. He could feel Oliver's erection straining in his pants, against his own and he groaned softly as he pressed down against him. He couldn't stop, his logic and reasoning gone as he broke the kiss and lowered his lips to Oliver's neck. Oliver's fingers gripped tightly in his hair as he lapped and nipped softly at the tender skin of his neck.

"Ah… Francis…" Oliver's hips were rolling up against his groin, and he briefly noted that Oliver's hands had slid down to his chest and were hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. Francis wasn't going to complain. As soon as the last button popped open, he felt Oliver's small hands run up his chest. His skin burned where Oliver's hands touched, itched to be touched more and more, and he was ravenous with want for the petite pink haired boy below him.

His hands were itching to move lower, and he moaned softly before whispering. "I want you…" Oliver answered him with a roll of his hips, and a soft mewl of want. It was all the approval he needed. He let his hands wander lower, hastily undoing Oliver's belt and the button of his pants. He was so close… So close to his prize, the very thing he's swore he'd never do. Oliver lifted his hips as Francis slid his pants down his waist, his underwear sliding down with them. Francis could feel Oliver's chest heaving as his lungs fought for air, could feel his fingers gripping his hair with anticipation as he kicked the garments off his legs and onto the floor.

Another soft mewl from Oliver rang through the room as Francis let his hands run down Oliver's outer thighs. He lifted Oliver's leg, urged it back around his waist so he could reach down, let his hand touch as close to his rear as he could. That voice in the back of his head was shouting at him to stop this. But the string of fate was stronger than his logic, and when he felt Oliver's legs widen for him he knew that there was no turning back.

Oliver's hands slid his shirt off his shoulders, his small hands hesitantly exploring his body. This was all new to him, Francis knew, and he wasn't going to rush him. He let him explore. His lips lightly suckling on the tender flesh of his neck as Oliver's hands roamed his chest. His fingers lingered in his chest hair for just a moment before they followed his trail of hairs lower. He moaned in encouragement as Oliver's hand reached the top of his pants, and Oliver hesitated only a moment before going lower and cupping Francis' arousal. Merde(1)….

"Please… Francis…" He nipped at the soft flesh of his neck again, knowing in the back of his mind that that would leave a mark the next day as he slipped a hand between them, urged Oliver's hand to his belt. "Oliver…shit…" Oliver's hands were clumsy as they undid his belt and fumbled with the button on his pants. He was getting impatient, but he forced the urge to just do it himself away. He didn't want to rush him, or scare him away from this. He groaned in relief as his cock was finally freed from the tight confines of his pants, and sucked in a breath as Oliver's hands groped at him.

"I want them off…" He chuckled softly at the whine in Oliver's voice and hurriedly shuffled out of them. He back for a moment to just… look at Oliver, to bask in his ethereal beauty, a beauty he had never seen before in a man, and never would see in anyone else. The younger's cheeks blushed with excitement and his chest rapidly rose and fell with his hurried breath, his normally bright, sea colored eyes darkened with lust. He had a hand resting on his smooth belly, the other back behind his head. His gaze lowered, locked on the little prick between his legs, hard and weeping against Oliver's belly. His milky thighs were parted just enough to allow him to rest between them, his legs bent at the knees and his toes curled and uncurled softly. He was beautiful.

"Do you want to stop?" He forced himself to say it, out of respect. His eyes returned to Oliver's and he felt a wave of relief when the younger shook his head and rolled his hips again in some form of primal, desperate frustration.

Lube… he needed lube… He knew he had a bottle in his night stand that he used for… masturbatory purposes. It would have to do. He'd never done this before, not with a man anyway. He'd have to be careful. He had to do this right. The last thing he wanted was for Oliver's first time to be painful, or to cause him harm. He was a bit surprised at himself. Just a year ago the very idea of him doing this would have made him uneasy, repulsed even. But with Oliver… With Oliver this felt like the most natural and right thing in the world.

He lowered his now naked body atop Oliver's, bare chest against bare chest and kissed him again as he reached for the drawer and that bottle inside and grinned against Oliver's lips as he grabbed it and drew it close. "Spread your legs, mon chaton(2)…" He murmured against Oliver's lips as he spread the lube on his fingers. He moved slowly, kissing Oliver softly as he moved his hand lower, between his legs. He was nervous, almost afraid as he felt Oliver's arms wrap around his neck and he pulled back, just enough to press their foreheads together. "Relax for me…Détendez-vous... mon chaton. Je vais aller doucement. Je ne veux pas te faire de mal.…" (3)

His finger, slicked with lube rested at Oliver's entrance, lightly circling the tensed muscle. He could feel Oliver's body reacting to the strange touch, could feel that tight ring of muscles clench against his fingers. Slowly, he felt him begin to relax, and he eased his finger inside, just up to the first knuckle. His other hand slipped between them, took Oliver's cock in his hand slowly stroked him as he gently urged his finger deeper inside. Oliver's breath was shaky, slow. Francis could tell he was having a hard time staying relaxed.

"Do you want me to stop?" He went still, waiting for Oliver to answer him.

"No… K-Keep going… I like it… I like feeling close to you…"

Francis nodded, and resumed his internal massage with his finger, softly moving in and out, before gently urging a second finger inside him. Oliver's grip on his neck tightened as the new finger stretched him open. Francis gently pulled back, just enough to squeeze some more lube down on his fingers. His eyes were drawn to the sight, watching his fingers disappear inside Oliver as he stretched him. His other hand now slowly working the younger's prick. He watched Oliver intently, searched him for any signs of discomfort. He noted the subtle hitches in his breathing, the way his hands gripped at the sheets beneath him, the way he worried his lip as he pressed his fingers in deeper.

Oliver was intoxicating in all his glory and Francis groaned impatiently as he gently worked in his third finger. He paused as he watched Oliver grit his teeth, and slowly urged it in once the younger nodded at him. He worked those fingers inside him for what felt like hours before he finally struck a bundle of nerves inside his young lover that made him gasp and caused his hips to buck. "Oh~ God… D-Do that again…" Francis obliged, curling his fingers up and rubbing at that spot again. "Please… Francis… I'm ready…" Finally… He withdrew his fingers, and hastily coated his cock with the lube. He once again moved to hover over Oliver, and kissed him deeply and gently as he urged Oliver to lift his hips. He slipped a pillow beneath him, and nipped his lip softly as he lined himself up with his entrance. This was it, after this there was no turning back.

"You're sure you want this?"

"Yes… Don't stop… I want it. I want you." That was all the encouragement he needed. He pressed the head of his cock against Oliver's slicked up entrance urged it inside and groaned at the tight heat that surrounded him. Oliver's arms wrapped around his neck, and tears stung at his eyes as he forced himself to relax for Francis. "Go in… I want it…" He ran a hand through Oliver's hair as he pressed himself into that almost unbearably tight heat. Bit by bit, he buried himself, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt. He let out a satisfied groan as he seated himself inside him, and groaned again as he forced himself to stay still, to wait for Oliver's go ahead to move. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. But Oliver was worth it.

His hand slid between them once more, fingers wrapping around Oliver's cock and stroked him slowly, urging him to relax. He let out a sigh of relief when Oliver's hips rolled, and he slowly pulled himself out, before slowly moving it back in. The moan that left Oliver's lips was divine. They moved together, awkwardly at first, their hips working against each other as their bodies melted together in their bliss. Francis watched Oliver, memorized every gasp, every pleased groan that came from the younger, as they learned this new dance together.

"Faster…" Oliver gripped him, wrapped a leg up and around Francis' waist. Francis couldn't help it, he shivered as he readjusted and moved within him. Oliver's nails dug into his back, his gasps turning to small screams as Francis moved inside him. His lips once again found the sweet skin of Oliver's neck, and his body quaked as Oliver clenched around him. His lust, his passion was all building up inside him, forcing him forward with only one goal in his mind. "Yes! R-Right there!" Oliver's cries only spurred him on, the sweet sting of his nails raking down his back forcing him to thrust faster, harder, right there in that one spot that was making Oliver's body tremble in pleasure.

Oliver clung to him, tears welling up in his blue eyes as he was assaulted by pleasure that only Francis could give him, his nails leaving angry scratches down the older man's back as he gripped him tightly. One of his petite hands found its way into Francis' hair, and his small little fingers clenched tightly around the Frenchman's golden locks.. Francis' heart thudded in his chest as Oliver gripped him, clawed at him, gripped his hair tightly and pulled him into desperate kisses.

He could tell Oliver was close. The younger's movements became erratic, his cries rising in volume with each thrust into his writhing body. Oliver went silent as he fell over the edge, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a desperate silent scream as he spilled himself into Francis' awaiting hand. Oliver's body clenched tightly around Francis, that heat becoming too much for him and he grunted loudly as he emptied himself deep within his young lover's body.

Francis rested his head softly against Oliver's shoulder, and rested his weight atop him gently as he slipped out of him. Oliver's arms wound around his back, cradling him in his warmth as the both fought for their breaths, came down from their mutual high together. It took Francis a few moments to recognize that Oliver as stroking his hair, his fingers lightly brushing out the tangles that he knew were there. This was perfect. Francis could spend the entire rest of his life like this and have no regrets. He slowly rolled off him, to the side, and hummed softly as Oliver rolled with him, his arms never letting go of him.

Oliver let out a soft sigh as he drew Francis into his chest, embraced him gently against his warmth. "Can't I stay here tonight?" It was whispered into Francis' hair, and he felt his heart shatter. Oliver couldn't stay… He couldn't risk anyone finding out about what the two of them had done together. His arms wrapped protectively around Oliver's waist as he spoke. "Je souhaite que vous pourriez rester, mais nous savons tous les deux pourquoi vous ne pouvez pas."

He felt Oliver sigh and the fingers in his hair slowed to a stop. He pulled away and scooted up, drew Oliver into another gentle kiss. Oliver broke the kiss, a small smile on his face as he scooted back off the bed. "I love you, Francis." He whispered as he limped slowly to take a shower. Francis let those words enter his heart, and he smiled back as he glanced out the window. It had stopped raining. Maybe, Just maybe, this would work out after all.

Merde- Shit/damn

Mon chaton- My Kitten

Détendez-vous. mon chaton. Je vais aller doucement. Je ne veux pas te faire de mal. - Relax ... my kitten. I'll be gentle. I do not want to hurt you.

Je souhaite que vous pourriez rester, mais nous savons tous les deux pourquoi vous ne pouvez pas.- I wish you could stay but we both know why you can't.


End file.
